


Dusk

by bourgeoisCest



Series: Les Twins [4]
Category: Les Twins
Genre: Conditioning, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, M/M, Mental Anguish, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Issues, Sexual Abuse, Sibling Incest, Twincest, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8534236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bourgeoisCest/pseuds/bourgeoisCest
Summary: Love and hate are complicated and often very close to one another. This book tells the story of a strained and chaotic relationship between twins Larry and Laurent.
Not for the faint of heart, your warnings are in the tags.





	1. Broken

By definition, for something to be broken it had to have functioned properly beforehand. Therefor it’s not a word that I would use to describe what has happened to us, but a word I would use to describe myself. When there's no one around to correct me. It is, of course, against my better judgment to use that word. I know I'm not a piece of machinery made up of cogs and weights, but I feel as though I function as something less than average. The wires aren’t twisted, nor the fasteners loose. But the gears move slower, get stuck easily.   
  
It’s difficult to pin down where it all began, so forgive me if I go off the rails. Memories have a habit of mingling, getting to know each other. They exchange information that doesn’t belong and things become muddled. Even so, I will try.   
  
We grew up in unison, wore coordinated outfits. Just in case people forgot we were identical. Or maybe to remind ourselves, because really I didn’t see the resemblance until recently. I was myself, my twin was my twin, and never the two were mistaken.   
  
Much of our childhood was typical of other children in the neighborhood. We hung out where the other kids hung out, played in the same lots they played in. Had the same interests. We weren’t even out of the ordinary in our own home, being the third set of twins to our mother. She did however, take it upon herself to have us separated. Larry kept home while I was sent to Guadeloupe. 

 

Neither of us could understand at the time. We bickered as kids do, but we had no desire to be parted. It was a hard transition from the outdated suburbs of Sarcelles to the remote, albeit charming, scenery of Guadaloupe. The sea was beautiful and my family welcomed me with warm, sun soaked arms. My time was filled, and my senses focused on the surroundings, leaving little time for me to think of home during the days. There was so much beauty in the trees and the sand. I was never truly alone, in the company of my cousins. They showed me which streets to take, where to dive off at the coast.   
  
But it was the evenings that were most disturbed in this uprooting. There was no one to push me off the bed, or to hold me close in their sleep. There was no one to share my thoughts with, the ones that come just before you fall asleep. Only the constant sound of the ocean and it could never speak back in a soft voice. Make me laugh. It only continued its echoing tide, pushing into and off of the sand.   
  
The anxiety subsided after the first few months. Not entirely, but enough to let me grow into myself. And forget about the matching shoes and endless misnaming. My hair had grown out from its braids after sometime and it was on an exceptionally hot day that I asked my aunt if she would twist my hair the way she did my cousins. It was an innocent request, but the look she got on her face was something worth remembering. She had a smile just like my mom.    
  
It took me sometime to understand this, my aunt's love for me. She had children of her own, some older than me, some younger, and she loved them dearly. Her heart was too big for only them and she cared for me just as attentively, if not more. We lit each other up, made each other brighter. She told me that my mother bore me just for her. It made me feel deeply. It was a sentiment that was almost impossibly warming. Quickly, my cousins became my sisters and my brothers. These islands became my home. To this family, I was unparalleled by any twin. For the first time in my life I wasn't not-Larry. 

 

I was Laurent.    
  
But my year there wasn’t as quaint as I might recall it. We weren't allowed to enter the trees after sundown. The drug trade made the deserted areas dangerous and there were times I could hear the adults whispering about another stabbing. Twice in one week, once.   
  
The same ocean that lulled me to sleep was the cause of much devastation. Storms frequently visited our unsheltered shores. Most of them were harmless, but late in the summer, a hurricane began to travel just north of the Caribbean. Preparations began a few days before it was predicted to arrive. I had never lived in a tropical place, and hurricanes had only been a chapter in my science textbook until then. My stomach was in knots the entire week. 

 

The night the storm rolled into the bay, we were in the kitchen having supper. There was a yellow phone that hung on the wall just beside the fridge. It was not much of a centerpiece in the household, but it was there, silently waiting to become useful. It got its chance that night.    
  
The first ring was startling, especially with all of us waiting in suspense already. I watched my aunt pick up the receiver, the yellowing glow of the kitchen light framing her gingerly figure.   
  
"Oh, hello," her voice was always melodic in its tone and even while she was stressed she sounded musical over the line. "We’re okay. No, it's not hit us just yet."  Her smile was cautious but warm as she listened to someone on the other end. They seemed to be talking at her very shortly. When I saw her looking at me, knowingly, I pushed my chair away from the table to return the stare. "He's right here," I stood and came to the kitchen where she was. I took the phone from her and pressed the cold plastic receiver to my ear. It's smell still lingers in my thoughts. Heavy static filled my ear.   
  
"Hello?"   
  
"Laurent?" In the eight months since I had been on the islands, we had received a handful of calls from Paris. My mother mostly. In the first weeks, I wanted to so badly to call home. But it was an expense we couldn't usually spare, I knew that and never asked. In eight months he had never been on the other end of the line, and yet somehow I could recognize his voice anywhere.   
  
"Hey," I said, feeling all eyes on me. I wanted to sound as casual as possible. At the time I was unwilling to make a spectacle of myself when I had so thoroughly gone on without my twin. But it was a struggle to contain my excitement. The butterflies in my stomach took on new meaning, rising into my chest.   
  
"How are you?" He was fronting too. I told him I was okay, smiling like an idiot. He went on about what the news had said about the hurricane. Talking as if it was a subject we were picking up from yesterday. He talked quite a bit actually, about mom, and our siblings. It was almost like he was making excuses to tell me things. It was such useless information, things I already knew. But I remember it all as if it were the first time I was hearing it. "Well, I shouldn't stay for long. I just wanted to let you know."   
  
"Right. Okay."   
  
"And to tell you.." His voice took a stuttering turn. I pressed the phone harder against my ear to hear him. The inhale before he spoke making my skin raise with goosebumps. "To be safe...and I miss you. So don't die."   
  
The smile on my face was nearly painful when I snorted into the phone. "Okay I'll try not to, no promises."   
  
"I'm being serious," my smile remained but I couldn't ignore the prick of guilt I felt at that. My goofy, timid twin was worried about me. "It's not funny. And I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. You better be okay so you can come home."   
  
The butterflies in my chest melted at that. I looked at my shoes, wishing I could see the stern look he had on his face. "I'm sorry...I miss you too." he said nothing. "I promise I won't die."   
  
"Good" he seemed satisfied with that. "Talk to you later."   
  
"Okay."   
  
"Bye."   
  
The receiver clicked and went dead. Larry was gone but our connection was unbroken.   
  
We were all huddled inside while it passed, hoping the sea wouldn't climb up the beach to our home and wash away our foundation. The wind whistled its way through the seams along the doors and windows. Rain so unrelenting it sounded like skeletons dancing on the roof. The trees bowed under the might of nature's forces until, finally, they snapped. 

 

I was a mixture of fear and adrenaline for the following hours. Larry's call sparked new feelings that were only inflated by the anxiety of our situation. It was the first time since my arrival that I'd felt wanting. Needing. I wished that I could have stayed on the phone with him for hours. Sitting in silence with nothing but the static between us. The house shook on its stilts and my heart tried so desperately to escape my chest that it left my insides hurting. 

 

I felt my family around me, holding strong. I feared for them and for the other people in town. And somehow, even when he was far away and no where near this danger, I feared for Larry. I had not even thought of death, but the idea was planted in my mind now. The idea of never seeing my twin again was overwhelming. I had to be okay, I decided. God forbid if anything happened, I had to survive.   
  
It seems very short now, but it must have been almost two days. Gradually the storm subsided, the pattering of water became no more. Once again, tide became the centerpiece of a familiar symphony. Emerging from the house, we found broken palms. The stilts under the house held up, but paneling on the roof was missing. Still, we were thankful to be intact.    
  


* * *

  
I remember it clearly. Seeing him for the first time since our 15th birthday the previous year. He had grown and so had I, his hair braided back into a puff. My own hair was twisted, barely long enough to make me part the bangs so I could see. 

 

Seeing him only in my mirror for an entire year. And then to see my own eyes framed in different clothes and hair. Surreal.

 

I'd forgotten my twin.   
  
I was still reeling over the nostalgic smell of home when he came towards me. The house was a bustle of cousins and aunts and uncles coming only to visit and then leave me upon their return home. I don't know what I expected, for him to be taller maybe, or shorter or even to look a little less like me. But he couldn't outrun our DNA. We were the same height, had the same eyes. He even stood like me.   
  
"What happened to your hair?" His smile was contagious    
  
"What you don't like it?" I feigned concern. I couldn't care less what Larry thought of my hair. I liked it and that's what mattered. He only smiled wider and I was graced with the sight of his teeth. They were straighter than they had been. But his front teeth were still prominent and chipped against his otherwise stoic appearance. He always smiled with his eyes. He shook his head.    
  
We went on as if nothing had changed. Got along even better then before in fact. Found new things we both enjoyed and picked up where we left off in old hobbies. He was the same brother I had grown with. Still sweet, and a hell of a clown. Couldn't be serious if his life depended on it. 

 

But there was something new to him. He may have still been juvenile, but I could tell there was experiences there that I didn't know. Aspects of him grated down in a different way than mine. And that made us all the more inseparable.    
  
It wasn't until a week at home that I fully grasped how much I had missed my brother. His hugs were so firm, and the first one he gave pulled the air from my lungs. The smell of him brought back the year before I left. The things that made me laugh, the times we had together. The sound of his breath against my shoulder as he slept. I had missed him.   
  
Ever since leaving our adolescence behind I had become stiff, inflexible, even a bit anxious. I’m not sure why. Maybe a combination of changes in body and changes in home. Larry, however, seemed unfazed. If anything he had become more free spirited in my absence. 

  
It wasn't only me. He could always get Maman to smile. People were in a good mood when Larry was around. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only person on the planet. Even in school this stood firm. I had my own friends, of course, ones that I tried to introduce to my brother. But it seemed that everyone already knew Larry. Most thought kindly of him, or at least they said they did. in fact, I spent most of my school years being mistaken for him, or only being recognized through him. Once again, I returned to being either Larry, or Larry’s twin.   
  



	2. Mended

I remember it clearly. Seeing him for the first time since our 15th birthday the previous year. He had grown and so had I, his hair braided back into a puff. My own hair was twisted, barely long enough to make me part them so I could see.

Seeing him only in my mirror for an entire year. And then to see my own eyes framed in different clothes and hair. Surreal.

I'd forgotten my twin.

I was still reeling over the nostalgic smell of home when he came towards me. The house was a bustle of cousins and aunts and uncles coming only to visit and then leave me upon their return home. I don't know what I expected, for him to be taller maybe, or shorter or even to look a little less like me. But he couldn't outrun our DNA. We were the same height, had the same eyes. He even stood like me. Made me notice things about myself I never bothered to think about.

"What happened to your hair?" His smile was contagious 

"What you don't like it?" I feigned concern. I couldn't care less what Larry thought of my hair. I liked it and that's what mattered. He only smiled wider and I was graced with the sight of his teeth. They were straighter than they had been. But his front teeth were still prominent and chipped against his otherwise stoic appearance. He always smiled with his eyes. He shook his head. 

We went on as if nothing had changed for a while. Got along even better then before in fact. Found new things we both enjoyed and picked up where we left off in old hobbies. He was the same brother I had grown with. Still sweet, and a hell of a clown. Couldn't be serious if his life depended on it.

But there was something new to him. He may have still been juvenile, but I could tell there was experiences there that I didn't know. Aspects of him grated down in a different way than me. And that made us all the more inseparable. 

It wasn't until a week at home that I fully grasped how much I had missed my brother. His hugs were so firm, and the first one he gave pulled the air from my lungs. The smell of him brought back the year before I left. The things that made me laugh, the times we had together. The sound of his breath against my shoulder as he slept. I had missed him.

Ever since leaving our adolescence behind I had become stiff, inflexible, even a bit anxious. I'm not sure why. Maybe a combination of changes in body and changes in home. Larry, however, was unfazed. If anything he had become more free spirited in my absence.

It wasn't just me. He could always get Maman to smile. People were in good humor with Larry about. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world. Even in school this stood firm. I had my own friends, of course, ones that I tried to introduce to my brother. But it seemed that everyone already knew Larry. Most thought kindly of him, or at least they said they did. in fact, I spent most of my school years being mistaken for him, or only being recognized through him. Once again, I returned to being either Larry, or Larry's twin.

Things went on without disruption, occasional bumps in the road, but high school's troubles never discriminate. Even an ostracized group of street dancer's had its share of hardships. But we stuck together, us and Larry's friends. And arriving home was like entering a church, it's welcoming air still new and calming to I who had become accustomed to the scalding heat of the caribbean. The walls were cool under my fingertips, the smell of our shared room a mixture of the fauna outside and our own natural scent. Occasionally Larry would fog up the place with cologne. A few weeks later it would be confiscated until, as Laura put it 'he could administer it responsibly'.

"Hey" Larry began, privacy in his words. "We should rearrange the beds". I deposited my bag beside his near the threshold, its straps still lingering on my shoulders.

"There isnt anywhere to rearrange them to" I scanned the cramped room, posters taped corner to corner. Clothes lay abandoned on the floor and on the dresser. Most of them were mine, i never could decide what to wear in the morning and I didn't care to put them away. Some of my things were still tucked away in bags under my bed. They retained the air of the ocean.

A dusty tube tv and a tangle of color coated wires. Game cartridges. Our bedroom was full to burst, but when I look up to him sitting on the end of the mattress. His hands gripping the edges as he tried to push it back against the wall. He was the only occupant. He gave a thoughtful frown and looked about. What ever was going on in his head I couldn't identify it.

"We can push my bed against the wall" Larry knew I wasn't nervous towards change, just the window. His was always in front of them, the double shutters disproportioned to the tight quarters. Mine, against the far wall, my head near the door.

We spent the afternoon moving the bed to mirror mine, lifting the dresser and regretting it the second all the drawers fell out almost landing on my foot. Larry only laughed, his eyes creasing away as he smiled with his entire face. Even if it was at my own expense, I thanked god for that smile.

Larry had dived head first into cooking it seemed and I spent that night, like most, watching him scurry around the kitchen. He refused to let me help, convinced I would ruin dinner. I didn't fight it. After experiencing the tyranny that was chef Larry I did well to stay out of his way. He liked to make simple dishes, ones mom has passed to him or sometimes things he came up with on his own. I distinctly recall the smell of bread frying in butter. Hot, ham sandwiches and leftover potatoes. I think he really enjoyed feeding people, not just me but especially me. He set the table, making me wait until everything was ready. I never minded.

"I'm going to start studying"

"For the test?" I asked, not giving Larry an ounce of my attention once I began forking potatoes. I felt guilty for that when he spoke again.

"No" He began with blatant disappointment, "To become a real chef, There's a nice restaurant that I can take an apprenticeship with not that far away." He sat next to me, making slow work of his own plate, I could feel his gaze. I swallowed hard on a bit of unchewed food.

"When are you gonna start that?" I asked only for my own curiosity, wondering how much free time was going to be given up between us. Separation was always on the back of my mind, always just around the corner and even as I think about it now, the anxiety lingers.

"I don't know. I haven't applied" He admitted, the interest in his voice dropping before he changed the subject. Had he told me about this before? "You know what I was thinking, I want to take my hair out. See how much longer its gotten. I think it could be long enough to do it like your's now right? Then we can be the same" It was a tempting suggestion and I smiled, shamelessly glowing. It's never something we intended, but when ever we agreed upon something in unison it was as if puzzle pieces were sliding into place.

"I thought you didn't like my hair this way" I teased, shoving a good third of my sandwich into my mouth, waiting for Larry to answer as he had just done the same. I will admit, i liked to pick up arguments with him, even over nothing. He could become so animated and it was fun to give each other shit.

"I didn't say I didn't like it." Liar "It just looked weird at first" He explained, a bashfulness about him as he covered his mouth with his hand. I snorted, unconvinced of his opinion. But I didn't really care. So long as he wanted to match. He didn't talk much after that. But when I ever I looked up at him from my plate he seemed occupied with thoughts. He did that frequently, left me for his own conversations. Maybe because I didn't talk quite as much when i was tired. Meanwhile he could talk well into unconsciousness and long after. Still there was something about his apprehensiveness that caught the slightest bit of my attention, words rarely went unspoken and at the time it was unlike Larry to keep his thoughts from me.

We had gotten pretty starved after tearing up our room and polished off the leftover potatoes. Yet I felt hungry and grabbed a row of cookies before heading upstairs behind him. The house was deadly quiet, neither of us could stand it and we turned on the cable. The image on the tv came in and out, the antenna bending at impossible angles just so we could have the late night shows in the background. I plopped onto my bed after changing into my pajamas and gobbled down the cookies, letting my twin steal half before he disappeared. We locked up the house, but left our bedroom door open, letting the air flow through from the window. We prefered it that way, we could hear when Maman got home. It felt better knowing they were home.

Larry took a shower. When he came into the room, he was wearing a t-shirt that was a number of sizes too big. It was my shirt. The lights were off and the blue glow of the tv framed him as he crossed the room to slink onto his creaky mattress. Like a sleepy ghost.

The spacing in our room was different. Not better just different. But with my bed on the opposite wall, he felt far away. The clean floor between us like an ocean of worn carpet and settling dust. I watched him sit there for a moment, watching the lights dance on his face as he stared tiredly at the screen. He looked peaceful, lulled by the mindless television and the quiet night air, humming with crickets. I watched. Laying down on my bed, not thinking about anything in particular, tracing the outline of his profile with my eyes. Until he turned to look at me, half his face in blackness. The youth of his features contrasted with the newly hardened angle of his jaw. His shirt waved in the soft breeze from the open window behind him. Everything was so blue.

"I can't see you" He said, barely above a whisper. I must have looked like nothing more than a pitch black corner. Larry got up and dragged himself to the shadow of the room towards me. I moved enough to let him settle down beside me. I felt calmness, and fatigue. He hardly fit there with me, my back flat against the cold wall. His arm brushing against mine as he struggled to fit his pillow beside mine. Making the bed cry under his weight every time he shifted. Jostling me in my half sleep. I didn't mind one bit.

I closed my eyes once he settled, his face towards me. I could feel myself floating away, but Larry persisted. "I want to move the room again"

"Mhm"

"We can put the tv on this side and then move the beds on the same side so they aren't so far away. I can't even talk to you from over there" I could hear the smile in his tone, but I didn't say anything. Too exhausted to think about moving furniture again. although I did love to hear him talk. He stopped after a moment of muttering to himself. Then after a few moments more, with white noise filling the gap, he whispered.

"Lau"

Again I didn't respond, feigning sleep because it was sometimes the only way to get him to just go to bed. I could see very faintly, the tv on my eyelids, the feeling of weightlessness beneath me. He laid quiet for even longer and I thought maybe he had finally dozed off until a shadow passed over. I felt his arm around my shoulders, his body came close to me until i was huddled in his chest. I could smell him.

I could feel my tired heart trying to beat with excitement. My chest wanting to burst open. And for what? Just his arm around me, just for his hand playing in my hair lazily. He had never done that before. Maybe he laid close, put his head on me. But never did he hold onto me this way. It was almost nothing I tried to think. Yet my heart persisted. I wanted so badly to hold him back, and I would have. But I was frozen as he pressed closer, planting a kiss to the top of my head. I had committed to pretending I was asleep and I feared if I woke now that he would move away. So I let him hold onto me. My heartbeat pounding in my ears so loudly I don't know how he didn't notice. I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have. Once the excitement wore off and my mind finally succumbed to exhaustion. I felt safe and warm. I slipped away, thinking of my brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter coming soon


End file.
